Nightmares
by singxyourxheartxout
Summary: Harry's life is being turned upsidedown. His best friend is near death, and he's having strange dreams that may help him figure out why. Cheers for ANOTHER new summary!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I know this isn't the best story, but it's my first one submitted to fanfiction, and I would appreciate constructive critizism. Please note that my program that I'm using doesn't have spellcheck, so I have to do it manually, and I will miss some things, but I'll do my best. Review?**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. That lucky duck J.K. Rowling does. Some characters may pop up later in the story, and they shall be mine.** **-cackles-**

Harry sat up with a jolt and straightened his glasses. He checked his watch; it was quarter till ten. He must've fallen asleep while in detention with McGonagall. She'd made him stay and wipe clean all of her desks after he'd fallen asleep in class that day, which had a rather interesting story to it. . . .

"POTTER!" she'd roared. He sat up straight, suddenly wide awake. "LOOK WHAT HAS HAPPENED TO MISS PATIL'S SUBJECT!" Harry looked over at Parvati, who was looking down at a bloody mass on her desk in horror.

"Professor, what happened to her mouse?" he said nervously, immediately sickened by what had fallen into his line of his vision.

Man, he'd never seen her that angry. "YOUR MOUSE KILLED HER MOUSE, POTTER! WHAT HAVE YOU GOT TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?"

"Er--I'm sorry, Professor, I haven't been getting much sleep, and I--" he started, but she cut across him.

"Well, you can just come back here at nine o'clock tonight and clean up this charming mass of--of--_filth_," she spat out in a dangerously quiet voice. "And I mean it, Potter, get some sleep in your own bed, in Gryffindor Tower, so that you do not treat my classroom like a saliva pit." He looked down embarassedly and saw a small puddle of drool that, no doubt, he had made.

"_Scourgify_," he muttered quickly, and the mess vanished.

So here he was, trying to scrub mouse carcass and blood off of Minerva McGonagall's surgically clean desks. She would not let him use any magic; he must work like a Muggle tonight. If she had wanted him to use a spell, she had said, she would have done it herself. "Rubbish," Harry muttered to himself. "Absolute rubbish."

"It's rubbish, is it Potter, that I would not like mice fighting in my class?" Professor McGonagall herself had just swept through the doorway and was looking rigid and disapproving. "It is rubbish that I would not like animals dying in my classroom?"

"No, Professor, I didn't mean--"

"Really? You were not talking about the task I have bestowed upon you, which, by the way, is only half done?"

"No, ma'am."

"Then what is this 'absolute rubbish' that you speak of?" she said in a quiet but dangerous voice.

"I'd rather not talk about it," Harry said, eyes down.

"Is it the reason you have not been getting sleep?" she asked, her tone softened, even somewhat gentle. Harry thought he saw a flicker of motherly understanding in her eyes, but he could not be sure.

"Erm--no," he lied. She seemed buy this, or maybe she just didn't want to press the subject. Either way, he was glad to finally escape to Gryffindor Tower at ten thirty.

**Jen: So there you have it, folks. Chapter one. It's a bit short, and I didn't notice that my muses are almost longer than the chapter itself.**

**Harry: How come I had to drool?**

**Jen: Because I'm the writer here, and I say you have to drool.**

**Harry: Just because you're the writer doesn't mean you **_**own **_**me.**

**Jen: o.O At least I made you clean it up!**

**Harry: And why am I being so fidgety in front of McGonagall?**

**Jen: Once again, I am the writer.**

**Harry: But you don't own me!**

**Jen: While you're in my stories, you'll do what I write, young man.**

**Harry: o.O**

**Hermione & Ron: And how come **_**we**_** weren't in this chapter?**

**Jen: You'll be in the next one! I promise.**

**Harry: Oh, sure, be nice to them. . . .**

**Hermione & Ron: Yeah, 'cause we're more special that you.**

**Jen: -sigh- Just review, people. I'd love to know how I can improve. I'm not very satisfied with this chapter.**

**Harry: Oh, so you use me and now you don't like my work, I get it.**

**Jen: -slaps Harry- Stop boring the readers.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.**

**A/N: Thanks for all the uplifting reviews, guys. It means a lot.**

Harry truged up the staircase to Gryffindor Tower. He was so tired that he could've slept in front of the portrait hole, but he knew that Ron and Hermione would want to know about his detention, as they always did, so he forced himself to mutter sleepily the password to the Fat Lady.

"Incorrect," she said simply.

"What do you mean, 'incorrect'?" Harry fumed.

"I mean, you are incorrect. You will have to wait for someone else to guess the right password."

Sitting down on the stairs, Harry groaned. He wished so fervently for his four poster in his dormitory, but he would have to wait. He stretched out in front of the portrait and fell asleep.

_Harry was running down the third floor corridor, the one they had been forbidden to walk three years ago, in their first year. Something was chasing him, he didn't know what. Harry stopped, panting heavily, listening with all his might for the slightest sound._

_He sat down, hoping to regain regular breathing before whatever it was found him. He heard footsteps; whirling around, Harry saw the most hideous figure of a man --if it was a man-- walking toward him._

_"Harry Potter," it breathed in its high voice. "We meet once again."_

_"Get away from me!" Harry yelled, terrified. His scar was burning white hot, which could only mean one thing._

_"Avada Kedavra!" the man yelled, and Harry saw a flash of green light and was gone._

He was rolling around on the floor, screaming his head off, while his scar prickled painfully. Harry had fallen down the staircase, and his arm seared with pain. He was sweating, and wanted nothing more than to empty his stomach right then and there, but someone was there, trying to say something, so he refrained.

"Harry, Harry, quiet," Hermione soothed. "It's all right, just calm down." She was dressed in her pink bath robe, and he couldn't help but wonder why anyone would wear anything like that.

"You gave us a real scare, mate," Ron said. "We thought you'd been attacked."

"I was, sort of," Harry said in a shaky voice, to recieve looks of utter shock from his two best friends. "I had this dream. Something was chasing me, and then it killed me."

"D'you know what it was, Harry?"

"I'm not sure, but it was evil, I know that. It used the Killing Curse."

At that moment, Professors McGonagall and Snape decided to run up to where they were, so Harry mouthed, "I'll tell you later," to Hermione and Ron, and they nodded.

"Mr. Potter, what happened?" McGonagall demanded, in a none too gentle voice.

"I fell," he said stupidly.

"I can _see_ that, Potter. _Why_ did you fall?"

"Because I lost my balance, Ma'am."

She sighed. "_Please_ make sure you don't fall again, I don't need any more broken arms. Severus, would you kindly escort Mr. Potter to the hospital wing?" Without waiting for an answer, she said to Hermione and Ron, "You two will need to tell me exactly what you saw tonight."

"Well, come along, Potter, get up," Snape said briskly.

Halfway to the hospital wing, Snape said, "Why _did_ you fall, Potter?"

"I dunno."

"You perfectly well _do_ know, I think."

"I had to sleep outside 'cause I got the password wrong. I kind of fell down during my dream, Professor." Oh, he could _not_ spill the beans to Snape. The one person he hated, aside from Malfoy and Voldemort, could _not_ know why he hadn't been sleeping.

"Well, what sort of dream was it?"

But they had reached the hospital wing, and here Snape took his exit. Harry was very glad. He had been on the brink of having to tell his Potions teacher, and he couldn't let that happen.

"What happened?" Madam Pomfrey asked sharply.

"I broke my arm, Madam," he said. Man, why did everything he say tonight sound so dull-witted?

"What, at this hour? Well, never mind. Come on in, and I'll fix it in a jiffy."

He sat down on a bed, for the pain in his arm was quite blinding him, and his head felt extremely heavy on his shoulders. Madam Pomfrey bustled over, did a quick bone repairing charm, and said he'd better lay down; she could obviously tell he felt terrible.

Harry tried to sleep, but couldn't, and it wasn't because of his lightheadedness or his painful arm, or even his scar. No, the reason why he couldn't sleep lay in his own mind, and was the reason he was in the hospital wing in the first place.

He clambered out of the hospital wing early that morning, keen on getting something to eat before anyone could ask him why he didn't come back to Gryffindor Tower the previous night. He had been through enough already; he didn't need to lose his appetite.

About ten minutes after he sat down, Hermione and Ron came and grabbed breakfast. Sitting down on either side of him, they glared in the opposite direction of each other, which made Harry worried. He decided not to ask.

Classes were just as horrible that day, but for some reason, his teachers were all better about it that usual, and that was saying something. Even Snape was less aggrivating that afternoon during Potions, just waving his hand dismissively whenever Harry made a mistake, not making a big scene about how he put in his Gurdy Roots before his Turnip Juice, and just correcting it by a flick of his wand and muttering, "Read the directions more carefully, Potter."

Finally, at dinner, Harry got tired of his two best friends' attitudes. "What is with you guys?" he asked exasperatedly when Ron looked at Hermione with utmost contempt.

"_Ronald_," she said disgustedly, "spilled the beans last night."

"Ron, you didn't!" said Harry, aghast.

"I didn't mean to, Harry," he said, his voice now dripping with remorse. "She would've beaten it out of us sooner or later anyway. I'm sorry."

"I need to be alone," said Harry, who had had enough and had lost his appetite.

As he half ran, half walked back to his four poster bed to think, he distinctively heard Hermione saying, "Good job, Ron! Now he hates us!"

"No, he hates me." It pained Harry sharply to hear his best friend say something like this, but he didn't stop; instead, he walked even faster.

Back in his bed, he thought, Great. Now everyone knows about my nightmares and Ron thinks I hate him.

**Ron: I don't hate Harry!**

**Jen: Of course you don't.**

**Harry: I don't hate Ron either.**

**Jen: It's all part of the story.**

**Hermione: Well, I'm very happy about how it all turned out.**

**Jen: Thank you, Hermione. -glares at Ron & Harry-**

**Harry: But I don't hate him! And how come you broke my arm?**

**Snape: Why was I nice to _him_?**

**Jen: Ignore these idiots and review, please.**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Just wanted to give you all one last update before school tomorrow. You guys are really awesome. So kind. I love you all. I **_**did**_** fix my spelling errors for the last chapter, but for some reason they aren't showing up. Oh well. I'll just be more careful from now on.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or any other characters created by J.K. Rowling. Bah.**

**Snape: I would still like to know why I was nice to Potter.**

**Jen: Because I am the writer and I say so. But don't worry. You get to be mean this chapter.**

**Snape: Oh, good.**

Harry and Ron avoided each other wherever they went, whether it was the library, a class, the common room, or even their dormitory. They didn't even sit together during Potions with Snape, which was sort of smart, because he liked to taunt the two boys when they sat together in his classroom.

"Hermione, I don't hate him, I just can't talk to him right now," Harry said when he and Hermione were walking back to Gryffindor common room. He and Ron hadn't spoken since dinner the day after he'd broken his arm, and that had been a week and a half ago. Ron had always looked like he'd wanted to talk, but had lost his nerve whenever Harry had come close. Harry had so wanted to make up and be friends again, but this was too much just to let blow over.

The Slytherins, namely Malfoy, had been taunting him ever since they found out that he'd wake up screaming and in a cold sweat from a nightmare every other night, his scar throbbing. "That's what little kids do, Potter, or are you just four instead of fourteen?" Harry tried his best to avoid them and ignore them when he couldn't, but one day Malfoy had taken things too far and it hadn't ended nicely.

_"Hey, Potter, had any nightmares lately? What was this one about, your dead mum and dad? 'Oh, Mum, Dad, come and save me! You-Know-Who's coming to get me!'" Malfoy had jeered._

_"What, you haven't even got enough nerve to say Voldemort's name?" Malfoy winced when he said it. Harry laughed derisively. "Shove off, Malfoy, if you know what's good for you." Would Malfoy really go to that extreme? Would he really tease him about losing his parents? Yes, he probably would, thought Harry._

_"Ooh, big and scary Harry Potter's going to hex me, and I'm never going to be able to throw insults at anyone ever again, just like your mum and dad," Malfoy said, regaining his composure. "Pft, yeah, right, Potter."_

_"Harry, just ignore them," Hermione, who had been with him, said._

_"I've done all the ignoring I can do. PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" _

_He hit Malfoy square in the chest, and his arms and legs snapped together. He hit the ground with a thud and could only stare up at Harry in disbelief. Realizing that he would be caught any moment, he ran, knowing full well that he'd probably be caught anyway._

"I know, but why can't you just act nicer? Maybe he'd come and apoligize if you would. He already did once," she pointed out.

"I could, but I don't want to. He's just upset me too much, Hermione!"

"Oh, you boys can be so _stubborn_," she said, and stalked off. Harry was left to walk alone.

That gave him a lot of time to think. He _had_ been treating Ron a little harshly. But then, he was the cause of the extra taunting and jeering. The Slytherins had been treating him even worse since they'd found out about his nightmares. Although, Ron _had_ wanted to apoligize. And he had. But Harry hadn't listened. And now he was walking down the corridor, wishing he had. He felt so stupid. Maybe Hermione was right; maybe he _was_ just being stubborn.

Without realizing it, he ran smack into the Fat Lady when he got back to the common room. "Watch out!" she said haughtily. "Now, give me the _correct_ password and I _may_ let you in."

"Poppy," he said, feeling a little stupid. Whoever made up these dumb passwords had to be a witch to make it a flower.

"Correct," she said, and swung open to admit him.

The common room was deadly quiet. Everybody looked up when he came in. Harry looked at them all suspiciously and said, "What's going on?"

Hermione was in tears. She looked up at Harry and said, "Ron's missing."

"He didn't come back to the common room after dinner like he always does, and he's not in his dormitory," Fred stated.

"They've searched the castle. No trace of him," said George.

That was all Harry needed to hear. He set off down the corridors, looking in every nook and cranny, even though he knew Ron wouldn't --couldn't-- be in places like the broom closets, Potion jars from Snape's office (which he had to search very carefully for fear of getting caught), and even under benches in the Great Hall.

He was just about to go back to the common room, when he heard a moan from ahead in the corridor he was walking on, and raced toward it. A bloody mass lay exacly where the sound had issued. Harry approached it very carefully, afraid of what he might find.

There was Ron, laying in a very uncomfortable-looking position, covered in scarlet blood. "Ron?" Harry said a little forcefully, shaking him a little. When he didn't stir, he said, a little louder, "Ron!" Still no answer.

Harry did the only thing he could think of: He dragged Ron down the corridor, all the way to the hospital wing. "Madam Pomfrey!" he yelled. She came running out. "I've found Ron Weasley."

She put her hand to her mouth, taking in the sight before her. "Oh, my word," she breathed. Acting as if she had only just noticed he was here, she said, "You--Potter--go fetch the Headmaster."

He ran all the way to Dumbledore's office. Halfway there, he saw his Potions master walking down the corridor. Harry hoped with all his heart that he didn't see him, but it was no use; Snape came striding up to him.

"What are you doing out of bed, Potter?"

"I need to see the Headmaster."

"But why at this hour?"

"Because I found Ron Weasley, and Madam Pomfrey wants him to know." Harry was getting really irritated. Couldn't he understand that his best friend was in danger of death?

"I don't think the Headmaster needs to be disturbed at this hour, Potter. Go back to bed," Snape said in that oh so annoying silky voice of his.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "He won't mind."

"I don't know, Potter; I think he will."

Harry had had enough. He darted around Snape and just managed to miss his hand as he made a move to grab him. He could hear his Potions Professor's feet pounding behind him, but he didn't care; all he cared about was alerting Dumbledore of his friend's injuries.

When he finally got to the door of his Headmaster's office, he started yelling random passwords. "Lemon Drop! Halo Cheese! Angel Aries! Horoscope Herder!" Finally the gargoyle sprang to life. Harry ran up the all too farmiliar spiral staircase, and banged on the door to Dumbledore's office.

"Harry! What are you doing here at this hour? No, we haven't found Mr. Weasley yet, if you were wondering, but we're doing all we can--"

"No, Professor, that's not what I've come for." Harry tried to catch his breath. "I've found him. Madam Pomfrey sent me."

Dumbledore's face paled. "Madam Pomfrey?" Harry nodded. "Is he injured badly?"

"Pretty badly, Professor."

"Lead the way."

**Jen: I know this was kind of rushed, and if anyone has any ideas for the next chapter, I'd be grateful if you'd share them with me, and I'll credit you.**

**Ron: Nevermind that, what did you do to me?**

**Harry: Yeah, why's he dying?**

**Jen: Because I said so.**

**Hermione: This was a good chapter.**

**Ron: Hermione!**

**Hermione: I didn't mean that it's good you're hurt!**

**Jen: Please review.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys. You're the ones who keep me writing. dead-maraders and Dragonic Vampire Goddess, I'll make the next chapter for you. I decided to slow it down a bit.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or anything else created by J.K. Rowling.**

Harry raced down the corridors, Dumbledore hurrying along in his wake. He could hear the old, silver-haired man's breath coming in short gasps, but he didn't care. He had to get to Ron to make sure he was okay. Harry had been a jerk lately, but he wasn't so stupid that he would ignore his friend when he was near death.

"Ron," he whispered to himself as he ran down the hallway. "Please be okay."

They finally reached the hospital wing after what seemed like hours of running, but never getting anywhere. Harry burst through the doors, and almost collided with Madam Pomfrey, who was standing there, wringing her hands, waiting for his and Dumbledore's return.

"Is he okay?" Harry said breathlessly.

"I've tried to staunch the bleeding, but it's not working too well for some reason. A gauze has been taped over his wounds, but I can't get it to stay on for more than five to ten minutes at a time because they're getting drenched in blood. I don't think they were caused by Dark Magic, but you never know for sure. He's losing a lot of blood. I don't know if I can save him."

It wasn't until Harry, who felt his face draining and his skin clamming, found out these words weren't even directed at him until Dumbledore said, "Very well. Thank you, Poppy." He collapsed into a chair in the hospital wing and closed his eyes and leaned back his head. Ron might not make it. He'd lose his best friend and the last thing they'd said to each other was an argument. An argument whose subject had no _real_ consequences except a few extra taunts from the Slytherins. Harry felt horrible. Hermione had been right. He should've been nicer to Ron, and he'd had his chance; it was gone now, except if he could just see Ron. . . .

"No," Madam Pomfrey said firmly when he asked this.

"Well, why not?" Harry asked angrily from his seat. "I deserve to see my best friend before he's gone for good." He had already accepted the fact that Ron could die, and probably would. Wounds like that could never heal properly, even if they healed at all. If Ron _did_ live, and that was a very big 'if', he'd have bad scars for the rest of his life, but Harry didn't care. He would do anything and everything to have his best friend alive.

"Mr. Potter, I would like it if you would just wait until we have gotten him stabilized."

"You may _never_ do that. I need to see him while I still have a chance." These words were spoken straight from Harry's heart. He meant it. If they couldn't get Ron stabilized in time, he needed to see him now.

She sighed an old, tired sigh. He felt no remorse for it. "Very well, Potter. You may see him, but only briefly. Come on, hurry up!" she added when he stood rooted to the spot in surprise.

Harry raced to Ron's bed. It looked bad. Ron was bleeding from seven different spots, which included his torso, right arm, left leg, and head. "Hey, Ron," he said, pulling up a chair. "Ron, listen. I'm sorry . . . for the way I acted. I didn't mean to be such a jerk. I understand why you told McGonagall, I was just upset. As for this . . ." Harry pointed to his wounds. "I don't know who or what did it, but I've got a pretty good guess. Ron, I'm the one who found you and I'll kill the ones who hurt you. Dang, mate, you've got gashes all over you. You're giving Madam Pomfrey a fit. Try and go easy on her."

Just then, Madam Pomfrey herself stepped in. "Mr. Potter, if you would leave me to tend to his wounds now, please. The Headmaster would like to speak to you."

Harry looked at Ron one last time for the night. "Take care, mate. Call me if you need me. I'm always right here."

Madam Pomfrey bustled over as Harry walked out. Dumbledore was waiting for him in a soft chintz armchair that, no doubt, he had conjured. "Harry," he said, standing up, the chair vanishing as he did so. "I need you to take me to the spot you found Mr. Weasley, and tell me what you saw."

So Harry led him to the corridor leading to Gryffindor Tower. He hated that corridor now. It was the corridor that Ron had been injured in; the corridor that Harry had found him, spread-eagle on the floor, covered in blood. But he showed Dumbledore the bloody spot on the floor and told him how he had found Ron all the same.

"I see. Do you have any idea who attacked Mr. Weasley?" Dumbledore inquired.

He wanted so badly to say "Malfoy," but he knew he couldn't. As far as he knew, Dumbledore didn't know about his little run-in with Draco. It made perfect sense, really. Harry had cursed him, so naturally, Malfoy wanted revenge. There would be no reasoning behind his immediate accusation, unless he told his Headmaster about the fight. So he lied, "No, Professor."

"None, whatsoever?"

"None whatsoever, sir."

"Very well," Dumbledore sighed. "You may go back to bed now."

Harry scurried up to the common room, not wanting to look at Ron's blood any longer. As he burst through the portrait hole, everyone looked at him. "Harry, what'd you run out like that for?" Neville asked.

Harry ignored his question. "Ron's in the hospital wing. He's pretty bad."

Fred's, George's, and Ginny's faces blanched precisely the same color. "Can we go and see him?" George asked.

"I guess so, you're his siblings. Your mum and dad are coming soon anyway."

Without a word, the twins leaped up and clambered out of the portrait hole, no doubt heading for the hospital wing and their brother. Harry wouldn't have known what to say to them; he'd never lost a brother. Heck, he'd never had a brother to lose. Sure, his parents were gone, but he'd only been a year old, and lied to about it for ten years, come to think of it. Ron was like a brother to him, but he wasn't the same as a real brother. He didn't even know if his best friend liked him anymore, or if he had even heard his apology.

That was why he was so afraid of losing Ron.

**Ron: Why am I the one with all the bad injuries?**

**Jen: I dunno.**

**Harry: You made me a sissy.**

**Jen: Did not.**

**Harry: Yeah-huh! You made me cry over Ron.**

**Jen: Get a grip. You didn't cry.**

**Hermione: Why am I so rarely mentioned?**

**Jen: You'll be in the next chapter a lot.**

**Harry, Ron, & Hermione: When will you write the next chapter?**

**Jen: When I get enough reviews and when I have time. Sorry this was kind of short.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: You guys ROCK!!! Thanks for all the reviews, everyone. I'm hoping to get a few more; tell your friends!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of J.K. Rowling's other characters, spells, etc.**

**This chapter is dedicated to dead-marauders and Dragonic vampire goddess for their ideas.**

He roamed the corridors, scared out of his mind. He hadn't meant to kill the boy. Just a just a little blood spilled to get back at Potter, and --poof-- the deed would be done. His bloody wand gave him away at first glance, he knew that. He had to find a place to hide it until he was cleared of suspicion. Yes, just as long as it took to find something to clean it off.

Draco Malfoy was hurrying down the hall, frantically searching for a place to hide his wand. Weasley couldn't be dead --he _couldn't_-- or Draco would be in deep trouble. Probably a sentence to Azkaban. He couldn't live with that; he'd probably die in there. Then, what of his future? What of Pansy, whom he loved so deeply? What would she do? And what about his family? They'd be ashamed of him. Not for killing the boy; oh, no, everybody knew the Malfoys hated the Weasleys. They'd hate him because he got caught. _"All my life, Draco, I have been teaching you these things. And what do you do? You go and get caught for it. You are no son of mine."_ Draco could hear his father's words ringing in his head. Oh, how clearly he could remember it.

_He snuck down the hall, following the Weasley boy, his wand clutched firmly in his hand under his robes. Maybe he couldn't have Potter, but here was the next best thing: his best friend. It would cause him just as much anguish and grief as if it were himself._

_Draco crept silenly down the hall, making sure to be in the shadows in case Weasley saw him. All he had to do was cast the spell, and it would be overwith. Potter would pay for what he did._

_Weasley suddenly turned around. "Who's there?" he called uncertainly. "Harry? Is that you?"_

_Draco didn't hesitate. "Sectumsempra!" he cried._

_Weasley screamed and crumpled to the floor at once, covered in scarlet blood already. Draco stared in horror. If he'd known the spell was that powerful, he wouldn't have used it. He ran for his life, not staying to see if Weasley was still alive, not caring. All he had to do was get away, and he'd be fine._

Or so he thought. Draco came to a halt when he saw Dumbledore and Potter themselves standing in the exact spot that he'd attacked Weasley, and hid in the shadows, although he knew his white-blond hair would be slightly visible.

"Do you have any idea who may have done this?" That was Dumbledore.

Draco could see Potter's face clearly due to the moonlight streaming through the windows, and knew what he was thinking. Please, Potter, no. Don't say it, he silently begged. But then something miraculous happened. "No, Professor," he said. Then Draco understood. Potter would have to tell Dumbledore about how he had cursed him, and then Potter would get in trouble as well, though not as much as Draco would have been in.

"None, whatsoever?"

"None whatsoever, sir." Draco was inwardly grinning with relief. For once, he was glad to have Potter around. He'd thank him later, when he was cleared of all suspicions.

But still there was the deed of hiding the stupid wand that had possibly killed Weasley. He couldn't hide it in any old place; they'd recognize it in an instant, and do _Prior Incantato_ on it when they saw the blood.

He couldn't hide it in the common room; anyone could find it there. Draco wasn't sure if they'd turn him in, but hey, he didn't trust all of them.

Suddenly, he found himself standing in front of Filch's storage closet. The perfect place to hide it for a few hours! He'd just research a little, get what he needed, and come back for it. Filch was so stupid he probably wouldn't notice; he'd probably just think it was one of those dumb fake wands he'd confiscated. Perfect; just perfect.

* * *

In his dormitory, Harry Potter tossed and turned. He writhed and squirmed and tried to get away, but couldn't.

_He was Ron, walking down the corridor to Gryffindor Tower, fuming at himself. He'd once again lost the nerve to talk to Harry. He could sense that Harry wanted to make up, but he couldn't do it. So it was up to Ron to make things right._

_He suddenly sensed that someone was following him. He turned around, but didn't see anything. Ron kept walking, although carefully and cautiously. Hearing a sudden creak in the floor, he whipped around again, listening for breathing and straining his eyes through the darkness for any signs of life. Not seeing anything, he kept walking. _

_Ron couldn't take it any longer. He turned around and said into the darkness, "Who's there?" Then, thinking of his best friend, he said, "Harry? Is that you?"_

_Then a cry rang out that he knew didn't belong to Harry. "Sectumsempra!" it screamed._

_He experienced pain like never before. Blood erupted out of his body, though he couldn't see where; he was falling, falling to the ground, and soaked in blood already._

_And then he fainted._

Harry woke up with a jolt, suddenly noticing how his scar wasn't burning. It couldn't have anything to do with Voldemort then. But he felt like vomiting anyhow; his stomach was uneasy from the suspense and horror from his dream.

He rolled over on his stomach, hoping to calm down, but no such luck; Harry stuck his head out over the edge of his four poster bed and emptied his stomach. Suddenly, he noticed that people were watching him. Harry flipped over on his back and tried to steady his breathing, then looked at them.

His dorm mates were staring at him worriedly, Hermione and Professor McGonagall among them. "Potter!" she said sharply. "What happened?"

"Bad dream," he muttered.

"What was that?"

"I had a nightmare," he said more loudly.

Her face suddenly softened. "Would you like to see your friend in the hospital wing?" she asked gently.

"Yes," he said immediately, relieved. Ron had to be better by now, he just knew it.

"Would you like to go too, Miss Granger?"

Hermione stepped forward, her face relaxed, almost relieved. "Yes, ma'am."

"Go ahead then. Come back soon," she added.

He and Hermione raced down the corridors, toward the hospital wing. They met Malfoy along the way, but didn't take much notice to him. Harry shoved him out of the way and ran on.

"Madam Pomfrey!" Hermione called, breathless.

"What is it this time?" she asked impatiently.

"Professor McGonagall said we could see Ron," Harry said. He was crossing his fingers inside his pajama pockets, praying for her to let them see him.

"Well, come on in. He's not much better, I'll warn you."

Harry found himself not caring as he ran to Ron's bed. At least he wasn't dead. Yet.

Hermione gasped in horror as they neared his bed. Ron was lying there, bloody as ever, but with his eyelids half opened, giving him the look of someone who had just died. Harry immediately looked toward his chest, and was so relieved when he saw Ron was breathing that he sank down into one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs next to his bed.

"Ron . . ." Hermione gasped. "Ron . . ." And then she suddenly broke down sobbing, Harry with his arm around her, whispering comforting words in her ear.

**Jen: I'm much more satisfied with this chapter than with any other so far.**

**Ron: I'm not.**

**Malfoy: That was satisfying.**

**Ron: I'll bet.**

**Malfoy: If you make me go to Azkaban I'll do **_**Sectumsempra**_** on you.**

**Jen: Yeah, right. **_**Sectumsempra**_** doesn't even get mentioned until the sixth book.**

**Malfoy: Then how--**

**Jen: I'm the writer.**

**Ron: If you kill me, I'll tell your English teacher. She loves me.**

**Harry & Hermione: -suddenly appear out of thin air- Review!**


	6. Author's Note

Look, guys, I need help. I have no clue what I'm going to put for the next chapter. Can I have some ideas? I'll credit all who give me some.

In other news, I had a crappy day. On the bus, some idiot started making fun of me for being blonde, and I got mad and slammed my backpack into his chest. Yes, I know it was wrong, but guess what? I don't give a damn! He was asking for it. Anyway, that doesn't make me very motivated to write today, and besides, I don't know what to write for the next chapter.

So, if you can, please review and give me some ideas. They'll all be greatly appreciated.

Oh, and I'm thinking of starting an Outsiders story, as I've returned to my obsession with them after seeing the new cut of the movie on YouTube. I don't know what the plot will be, so I need ideas for that, too.

Please help me. You guys are awesome, and I know you'll give me some good ideas.

That means review. Please.

-Jen


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